alone at his house? How I just wanted him to drive me back to school because I had a math test to make up. I had to take the zero. I never showed anyone the bruise on my thigh. How he laughed about it later, telling me I was making a big deal out of nothing – then, how he twisted the story and claimed he hadn’t thrown the chair at all. That I was always making shit up about him. That there was something wrong with me – not him. And even though I knew better than to believe him, I believed him – you know?
Melanie could hear all of this and then – what?
What would happen next? We would walk back to class?
“You know what – I really need to go to the nurse. I really need to go home.”
“Sibley, I…”
“You can write the paper for me if you really want. Write whatever you want. That’s a good story. The bully boyfriend. Yeah. Use that one.”
I’ve got snot running down my face so I wipe it up with the big wad of toilet paper in my hand.
“No. Really?”
“You know what – I’ll write it myself,” I tell her – throwing the wad away. “Tell Ms. K I’ll write it at home and bring it tomorrow.”
Melanie shrugs and nods. Her eyes are wide, maybe a little red. She looks dried out all the sudden and I can tell she’s got eczema on the top of her eyelids and around her lips. I shake my head and let my hair cover my eyes for a second. Curtains drawn, tucked in. Done.